Hitman: Converison
by Sp00ks
Summary: The events of Hitman: Blood Money had Agent Forty Seven barely escape with his life. After what has occured, he's beginning to change. Could Agent Forty Seven change his ways with the help of a mysterious woman?
1. Chapter 1

_**Hitman:  
"Conversion"**_

"As the best wine makes the sharpest vinegar,  
the truest lover may turn into the worst enemy."  
-Proverb of Unknown Origin

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**_1  
_**

A black Ford Mustang pulled into the driveway of the hotel. As the driver exited, the valet ran up quickly, and entered the car. It pulled away, and another car took it's place. Agent Forty-Seven had watched this occur more times than he could possibly count tonight. The wind blew violently in his face, and he could feel the cold snow constantly landing on his head. He was cold, freezing. Any sane person would've left the rooftop he had been standing on for hours by now, but Forty-Seven wasn't any ordinary, sane person. He was cold, methodical, and he did whatever it took to get the job done. He glanced at the hotel entrance again, and there he was. His target, an old man in about his fifties smoking a cigarette. Coughing, and buttoning his trench coat as he crossed the street. Forty-Seven quickly exited the rooftop. The man had crossed the street, and entered a small alleyway in between the building that Forty-Seven had been standing on the roof of for hours, and an apartment complex. The man yawned, and stretched as Forty-Seven approached him.

"Can I bum a smoke?" Forty-Seven asked.

"No. Get the hell away from me." The man had a thick Italian accent, and a deep, throaty voice.  
"I'd be willing to pay you for it. I could really use one, right about now, and all the stores near here are closed."

"What's your problem? I said no. Now leave me alone! What the fuck is wrong with you?" Forty-Seven replied to his question by grabbing the old man, and pushing his heavy body against the brick wall. He pulled a knife from his back pocket, and quickly jammed it into the old man's frail back. Before he could scream. Forty-Seven stabbed him again. This was too easy. He pulled out a napkin from his back pocket, and wiped off the warm, thick blood. He straightened his tie, and walked away. No one saw him. Forty-Seven was amazed. This had been his first job since he had broken into The White House, murdered the Vice president, and the notorious founder of a rival assassin agency. It may have been his easiest kill ever. He got into his car, and drove off into the night, into the destiny that awaited him.

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	2. Chapter 2

Hitman:Conversion

2

He had lead a life of nothingness. He existed for one reason. To kill. It's what he was created for, and all he knew, all he did. He was alone, but for some reason. He didn't want to live like that anymore. Ever since he died, and came back to life. He had the desire to do more. He wanted more, but he just couldn't. So he continued to kill. He unlocked the door to his hotel room, and entered. The room was warm, cozy. A welcome change from the brutal weather outside. He locked the door behind him, took off his blazer, and untied his tie. He untucked his shirt, and laid down on the large, warm bed. He kicked his shoes off, and drifted off to sleep.

Rain poured down heavily from the heavens. Screams filled the air, and an explosion lit the night sky, turning everything to daylight, and then darkness again. Forty-Seven was on the ground. His suit drenched with blood. His blood. A harsh, metallic taste filled his mouth. He couldn't think. The pain was too intense. His 9MM Silver-baller was laying on the ground a foot in front of him. He stared at it, and slowly reached out for his weapon. He heard footsteps rushing towards him. The gun was just within his reach. He managed to drag his heavy, weak body a few inches, and grabbed it. The footsteps approached even closer. It was too dark to see, but he managed to make out a dark figure in the distance. He pulled the trigger, and the loud gunshots erupted from his weapon. The figure dropped to the ground. Despite his weakness, despite the heaviness of his body. He managed to stand up.

He was cold, and drenched with rain water. Where was he? How did he get here, and who caused the gunshot wound to his stomach? He didn't know, but he continued to limp forward. There was an old rundown building in front of him. He slowly reached for the doorknob, and opened the door. He scanned the area. No enemies. The room was lit by a single blue light bulb. There was an old, beaten down, heavily stained couch in front of him, a broken television to the right of him, and a bad stench filled the air. He collapsed to the ground. Bang! Bang! Someone was knocking on the door. He aimed his gun toward the door, and prepared to fire.

The heavy knocking at the door woke him up. He sprung into action. Grabbed his gun from under his pillow, and cautiously walked towards the front door of his cozy motel room. He looked through the peephole. There was a young teenager with a pizza box. Forty-Seven opened the door slowly.

"You ordered this. Right?" The kid asked.

"Yeah. I suppose I did. What's the charge?"

"It's already been paid for"

"Alright. Thank you." Forty-Seven grabbed the pizza box, and quickly shut the door. He placed the box on a nearby card table, sat down, and opened it. Inside was a envelope with a familiar symbol on it. It was from the agency. He smirked a bit, and opened it. Inside was a Compact Disc. He quickly walked to his closet, opened the door, and pulled out a large, black bag. He placed it on the card table, unzipped it, and pulled out his laptop. The laptop began to boot up. Forty-Seven went and made some coffee.

He sat back down, and placed the CD into the disc tray of the laptop. A familiar voice welcomed him.

"Hello Forty-Seven. Diana speaking. The Agency has a new job for you, but first we wanted to let you know how grateful we are to have you back, and working for us. We're glad we were able to patch up all the issues that had arisen since the last time you worked for us, and Forty-Seven. I'm terribly sorry for what I did to you. It was the only way I could've helped you. I want you to know that I'm still on your side, and I always will be. Anyway, you're next job should be rather simple. You're target is Ashtynn De Ravin. A business woman. Apparently she's been making life a living hell for our customer. He wants her to be taken out using any means necessary. She'll be at the local mall in three hours. She gets her weekly haircut their. This should be rather simple Forty-Seven. Good luck."

He drank the entire cup of coffee in a single gulp, and went to shower. He then put on a fresh suit, brushed his teeth, and left. He arrived at the mall after stopping for a meal. He scouted the location. It wasn't well populated today. That was good. This job should be fairly easy. He brought only one weapon. His knife. It should be enough. He sat down in the food court near the hair salon his target should be going to. He opened up a newspaper, and pretended to read it as he waited for the woman to appear. It had been another hour before he saw her, but she wasn't alone. He cursed under his breath. There was a man in front of her, and two in the back. Bodyguards. Diana didn't tell him this. All he had was a knife. He would have to make this quick. Just run up to her. Stab her, and run like hell. He pulled the knife out of his back pocket, and hid it behind his back. He rushed towards her.

This wasn't like him. It was too messy. Not smart. He was quick though, and he managed to jam the knife into the poor woman's spine before, the guards even noticed. They drew their guns when she hit the floor, and Forty-Seven quickly went for the guard behind him. He quickly stabbed him in the gut, and grabbed the guard's gun. He fired and hit both guards clean in the forehead. The police had arrived quickly, rushing in, and already firing without hesitation Forty-Seven went for cover in the salon. He ran to the back room, and quickly exited into a series of hallways that all connected to the various stores of the mall. He ran towards the garage but quickly turned right into an Italian restaurant, before the police officer's who entered the hallway through the parking lot exit could see him.

The aromas of the delicious food filled the air, as well as screams as he ran through the restaurant with his gun drawn. The officers quickly followed, and fired at Forty-Seven as he ran up the stairs. He returned fire, and ducked for cover behind a cart. There were people everywhere running, and screaming. He returned fire. There were at least a dozen cops a floor down. There was a large chandelier held up in the air by four wires bolted down on the ceiling. Forty-Seven had an idea. He aimed for the wires, and opened fire. The chandelier crashed down on top of the cops. People were running wildly everywhere screaming. Forty-Seven used this distraction to his advantage, and ran like hell. He entered the parking lot, and shot the 2 cops guarding the door. He picked up one of their guns, and placed one in each hand. A police cruiser sped up towards him, and he opened fire into the driver's side. The car turned to the right, and crashed into a wall. Forty-Seven ran like hell, he turned to the right, and entered the stairway. He caught his breath for a moment, and loosened his tie. He ran down the stairway as quickly as he could. His handguns aimed in front of him. A cop had just entered the stairway, and opened fire. He ran his magazine dry, and Forty-Seven opened fire. Hitting the cop in the chest repeatedly. Forty-Seven's weapon was dry. He discarded the weapons, and exited the stairway.

"Freeze" Said the police Officer who was holding a gun to Forty-Seven's sweaty forehead.

"Damn."  
"Hands behind your back, and get on your knees."

"I'd rather not."  
"Down. On the ground. Now!" Forty-Seven knocked the gun out of the Officer's hand, punched him in the face, and then knocked him on the ground. He was out cold. Forty-Seven took his gun, and quickly ran down the street. The police were everywhere, and he had parked his car four blocks away from the mall. After, a few minutes of weaving in and out of alleyways, cutting through buildings, and attempting to avoid the police. He arrived at the bar he had parked his car at. He checked to see if it was clear before making a run for his car. He got in, quickly started the engine, and drove out of the parking lot.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Hitman: Conversion**_

_**3**_

_**R**_egina Fisher was tired of being Stephen Waken's whore. She was nothing more to him than a piece of eye candy, an object for him to abuse. She was just there to make him look good, and to fulfill his needs physically. He did take care of her though. He was rich, and could afford to throw money at her. All she had to do was follow him around, her arm in his shoulder during parties, and then follow him to his bedroom. She of course, would leave after she did whatever he wanted. With a giant wad of money in her purse, but she would still be depressed. She felt horrible, and dirty every time she was around him. She entered her apartment, and then her bedroom. There was an elegant, but short black dress laying on the bed, as well as a note. It was probably from Stephen. There wasn't much written on the note but a time, and a business card for a nearby hotel stapled on it. She let out a sigh, rolled her beautiful green eyes, and pulled the beret that was holding up a ponytail. Her beautiful,curly, auburn hair fell to her shoulder, and she slowly began to get undressed. She didn't want to go to whatever party Mr. Waken was taking her to, and if she had known of the events that would occur that night. She wouldn't have went, but she would. Tonight her life would change forever.

She climbed into the shower, and took her time. She had a long day, small price to pay when saving lives. She was a Nurse for the local Hospital, and there was a huge shooting between a man, and several police officers. A lot of gunshot victims were brought in. Most of them were Cops, and most didn't make it. She was exhausted, her feet hurt, and what was worse. She would have to walk around in a pair of high-heels for hours tonight. She wasn't looking forward to it. She closed her eyes, and basked in the comfort the warm water from the shower head was providing. She snapped out of it. Got out of the comfortable shower, and began to get ready for the party.


End file.
